


Heavy Handed

by kissmewinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feminized Sam Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sam Winchester, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmewinchester/pseuds/kissmewinchester
Summary: AKA The Soul Bind AU No One Asked For But Me. So think “Canon,” but Sam’s newly 18, prefers female pronouns, and oh, yeah, they’re werewolves. Omega Sam/Alpha Dean ahead. More angst than fluff. But it’s quite fluffy.





	Heavy Handed

**Author's Note:**

> Previously titled: Like Christmas, New Years Eve, and The 4th of July (all rolled up into one!)

Dean heard his dad yelling from the moment he turned the engine off of his beloved Impala. And the classic rock stopped blaring, of course. Lifting his forehead off of the steering wheel, he shakes his head, and runs his fingers roughly through his short (and now messy) hair. “Just wonderful! Just what I want to come home to after a long day at work,” he thought petulantly before opening the impala’s driver side door. And closing it harder than demanded. (He’ll apologize to her later.) Yeah, the Impala was a hand me down of sorts, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like he picked her out himself. Maybe he should’ve stayed in the car.

Unlocking the motel room door, he braces himself. He was an Alpha in his own right but he wasn’t THE Alpha of the family, and he had to remember that.

He never much liked when their dad yelled at his little sister. Sam presented as Omega two years ago. If you asked him? Both the best and worst two years of his life.

He knew she was His, but she was also his little sister, his best friend, and his hunting partner, so he kept his Alpha at bay for as long as he could. He knew he was just buying time but he needed it, to figure things out.

Before he has a chance to close the door, he hears the bang of another. At least their dad saw it fitting to rent not just the one room this time; or he’d have run into Sam on the way in. That and he’d have to turn around and run after her. He was simply too tired for the dramatics today.

John eyed Dean before making a coughing noise. Dean took it for what it was, a greeting between Alpha’s. He nodded before sliding his leather jacket off and laying it over the chair across from John. He sat down. An open bottle of Jack open on the otherwise clear table between them.

Dean of course noticed it and tucked away that fact for later but he didn’t dare bring it up now. And it wasn’t important in the grande scheme of things either. He knew that Sam wouldn’t have been home for long before the fight must’ve started. So, how early did their dad start in on that bottle, and more importantly, what had he been saying to Sam before he walked in? She was one room over, but he could still sense her; he knew she was crying, and that she was trying to rest on his bed. (Not hers. His Wolf chimed in.)

He very nearly starts tearing up with the overwhelming amount of sadness radiating off of Sam. He can’t imagine what could’ve caused this. This was different. He knew Sam’s emotions almost better than his own. Okay, surely, better than his own, and this wasn’t teenage dramatics. (This was bad. What the fuck!)

Mind made up. “What the fuck were you yelling at Sam? Hm?” And before John had a chance to near-laugh at being questioned, Dean growls. John’s wasted but he’s not wasted enough to miss what a dangerous situation he’s put himself in. Dean can read that much from his face.

With an edge to his voice, John barks out, “The fucking truth! She needs to accept her place in this family! And it’s not between your legs! I told her she’s going away. Won’t be coming back neither.. you know that hunter from Oregon? James— yeah, he wants to wind down— had his 50th las—“ Dean’s went from angry to rage full in a matter of seconds.

“How could he!?, he can’t help but ask himself. “That’s not happening.” Is what comes out. He sounds more wolf than human when he grinds out the statement. No. way. In. hell. Does John have a death wish or something? (More than normal, that is.)

Dean hasn’t seen John’s eyes this dark since their last hunt. There was a demon involved. It’s a long story. The last round of whiskey must’ve dulled their dad’s common sense completely, Dean figures once John opens his mouth again. “You watch your—“ he feels the floor behind his head before he feels the pain from the left hook. The shock clear on his usually impassive face.

“Sam is MY mate, MY Omega; you had no right. No right at all. I’ve treated you far too well for far too long, old man. You’re not my Alpha… not anymore, and you are NOT my dad. I can never trust you around Sam again.” That’s when he hears the sniffles from the door conjoining the two rooms. He must have really let his Alpha Rage take control because not only did he miss the door opening and Sam slipping in, he didn’t notice THAT SMELL ohgod- that DELICIOUS smell wafting off of her.

“Shit. Shit. Shit! His little sister was in HEAT. It was like the metaphorical topping (on top of) this already overwhelming... pie,” Dean whined to himself. And that’s when he notices that while he and Sam were staring at each other, unblinkingly, John had started reaching his left hand toward the knife in his boot.

Stomping on his hand does the trick and he kicks the blade under the bed for good measure. Once he reaches a foot away from John’s head, still reclined back on the floor where it landed, he sends a swift kick to his forehead; puts him right out. It takes everything in him not to take his pistol out right there and end it. (But the previous action alone releases a knot in his chest. Or was that Sam’s chest? It didn’t much matter, he thinks, he felt it nonetheless. Plus, he can always shoot him in the head later.)

He looks up in time to see that Sam has walked the, what, 5 feet that was distancing them before he put John down for his “nap.” Dean kicks at John’s mangled hand, thinks “good,” and “that’s the least he had coming to him.” Cliche things like that. In a most non-cliche situation. Figures.

“Wait till he wakes up with no weapons; that’ll hit him worse,” Dean croaks out before he can blink. For some reason, Dean’s mind starts forming more creative plans, that’ll hit John even harder, when he shakes himself and zeroes in on Sam, again, and takes in the fact that Sam has stopped crying. But she hasn’t taken her eyes off of him, and she’s starting to look almost glued to where she’s stands. (Is she in shock? Oh god.) Thankfully, she’s only an arms reach away. 

Her scent was so much more pungent now that a wall (and doors; too many doors) no longer separated them. He could pick up more notes to her heat-scent than he had ever been able to before. (Like lavender and honey blossom. And it’s SO strong and lovely that he can’t help but liken it to a texture.) This wasn’t a normal heat, then. Noted.

Sam opens her mouth, looks down, in that way they’ve seen Traditionalist Omega-types use toward their Elders, Alpha’s, and Pack Beta’s, during their travels. He found the sight near revolting. Dean and Sam always agreed that those customs were archaic. And not for them. Hell, he and Sam usually wound up outright mocking them for it. (What could have changed within the matter of days?! Dean never wanted to treat Sam any less. Not ever. More? Yes. There were always ways to treat her better, in fact. Because Sam? Sam was his universe.)

Sam swallowed and still having not looked back up, seemed to have made up her mind, because she nods to herself and in the next second she raises her eyes. They were bright and sad and desperate, but all the same, he was glad she raised them. He smiled at her and her eyes seemed to get bigger because of it. Dad— no, John; John must have really messed her up. If only he’d wake up, I’d clock him again. Maybe I wouldn’t even stop there— Dean almost wishes he would now. He could bring him to tears his time. 

“You’re not angry,” she whispers, breaking his line of thought, sounding almost in awe. “I mean, you were obviously very angry with dad, _are_ very angry with dad, but— not with me. I don’t? Dean—?” And that’s all he can take. His hands go to Sam’s face, cradling it with care and using his thumbs to brush away the remaining tears.  
He doesn’t say anything; he tries to push her to continue using the bond, alone. He can’t stop looking at her, taking every little minute detail in. He’s actually allowing himself to for a change. And that’s when he feels the tiny pitter-patter between the bond. It almost feels like… ya’ know that pure, warm feeling you receive from a pet greeting you at the front door? Okay, like that, but less creepy, and a whole lot more… all-consuming and reverent.

“He told me that I disgusted you; that he knew how I felt about you and he was going to punish me. He was go-gonna sell me, and I’d never see you again.” The whimper at the end feels like a stab to his left lung. The way it feels when you have three ribs broken and they tear into your insides. (He never wanted to hear her make that kind of whimper. Maybe that’s why she always tried for stoic and bratty whenever she got really injured on a job. And by maybe, he means most definitely.)

He has his nose tucked up under Sam’s ear, lips on her pulse before he realizes that was the only course of action he could take. To get closer, to comfort. To make this better. “Ssssh shhhh shh. Oh, sweetheart; baby— Omega. Little sister, I’d never let that happen.” Their bond is twinkling now, and he can feel it’s vibrations like a second heartbeat.

Sam’s nuzzling back now. Reaching for his shoulder and his face with both hands, which instantly brings the Alpha back to memories of a time when Sammy always needed carrying; her little legs not long enough to keep up with her dad and big brother. Or always wanting to be picked up. Even when they were relaxing in their latest motel room, with the choice between John, who was her dad, and Dean, she always chose Dean. Arms raised above her head, silently asking him to pick her up and hold her. Big eyed, and expectant. Knowing even then she could always count on her big brother. She’s no longer that little pup any more, and yet she still is. And it all felt right for the first time since before he discovered his status when he was 15. There was nothing else to figure out. Everything was now out in the open. And they could move forward. What a relief.

He lets himself really feel her; the pads of her fingertips running over his bare shoulders, having reached underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt, and her warm sugary breath near his mouth, and the fingers of her left hand gripping his hair. And that scent! There weren’t words. If their dad hadn’t been passed out behind him, and his shoulder wasn’t acting up again, he’d have guessed he was in heaven. Sam must’ve started thinking about the same “pink elephant” in the room because he can feel her gazing at John’s slumped form from over his left shoulder. She stopped nuzzling. And he can feel that she’s just as upset now as she was before. Maybe more so.

He pulls back, and it’s decidedly one of the most difficult thing he’s done since he left Sam to her first day of preschool. He’d never had to leave her anywhere before. He was all the daycare she had up till that point. Like then, this had to be done, but he made sure he moved only just far enough away to look into her eyes. He wants her full attention. “We’re gonna pack up, dad’s stuff too, and then I’m gonna get us to a safe house. The one closer to Bobby’s. You know the one with the garden. The sunflowers you love. Once we get there, I’ll take care of you. Okay? You know I’ll take care of you, right?”

The bond stops vibrating and Sam’s eyes become shadowed. “Not good. Not good. Not good,” Dean and Dean’s wolf both howl. And Sam takes two steps back, forcing Dean’s arms to drop; she almost takes a third before it looks like she physically can’t take another and her eyes lower again. “W-what are you doing?” Dean wishes he sounded more like an Alpha then, but in that moment he’s more unsure than he’s felt since.. well a long ass time. Maybe since before they left Kansas, after the fire, when dad had left them for five days straight, and Sam wouldn’t eat anymore green peas, and all they had left was green peas. (She didn’t even like green peas to begin with.) Their dad was never who Dean tried to pretend he was. For his sake maybe as much as Sam’s. And he has no choice but to face that now.

“I-I-I wish I could, Dean. I really, really do.” Big fat tears rolling off of the one face he loved more than anything else in this entire world. He thought everything was going, well, smoothly. To say the least. Why was Sam doing this? And how was Sam still standing using that much strength toward cutting off their bond-and denying her Alpha, and True Mate’s demands? What could possibly be worth the pain that’s been creeping up in his chest since she stepped back? Knowing her chest must feel even worse. Knowing her body must have been weakening with heat for hours already. It doesn’t make any sense! Sam has always loved following directions made by Dean, even long before she presented. It’s a solid plan made in the best interest of his Omega and their Union.

“Sam! You’re not making any sense!” Dean almost- yells, and Sam flinches, and Dean finds himself reigning his wolf in for the second time today. He’s just so confused and hurt. Dean reaches into the front of his sweaty grey T-shirt, and once he has his fingers on the cord, he rips it and the pendant away from his throat.

Sam’s eyes are on his fist now clenching tightly around the amulet and the new leather cord she had picked out to replace the last one— she bought him this one just this last Christmas. It’s June now. He never took it off otherwise. Only to change up the cords when it met Sam’s liking. But Sam looks like she’s stopped breathing altogether. Dammit.

But he can feel their bond again, and it feels raw but electric, in a painful way, like a jolt of lightening where the comforting throb (and pitter patter) was. Dean can’t help but gasp. “Sam. Dad lied. Everything he said to you about ‘your place in this family’ was bullshit. Complete bullshit. I swear. Baby.. I took this off to remind you: you’ve owned me since forever. But this?? I’ve been wearing this since I was 10 years old, because I wanted everyone to know it. You’re my true mate. There’s nothing..”

Dean jerkily ties the amulet back around his neck, and takes Sam’s throat between his hands. Fingers caressing. The healthy vibration he felt through their bond is back. Dean releases some tension in his shoulders, and lets himself breathe deeply again. Let’s himself feel the curiosity that’s lightly tugging on the other end of their bond. The one that reminds him of the wap-wap-wap sound that a puppy dog’s tail makes. He places his forehead upon Sam’s.

“There’s _nothing_ that will keep me from your side. If—“ that’s when Sam tells him, through the bond, why she tried to push him away, and he can’t stop the noise that squeaks out of his throat, or his hands from tightening around her; having already moved them from around her throat to around her back and shoulders. Held close and wrapped up tightly against his front. Like maybe they’d fuse together if they stood there long enough.

He kisses her forehead. Pouring as much love and history between them into one kiss as possible. And responds back through their bond. Confidently. “There’s absolutely no way you could’ve forced me into this. I knew when mom came home with you, okay? I knew then. But I was three. I may have not known what to call it, but you were always mine. Always. An Omega can’t force or trick or ensnare anyone into being their True Mate, Sammy. You know that, my love. You know that.” She relaxes into his arms; finally accepting the truth for what it is, and basking in the feeling the bond is creating between them. And it feels like fireworks.


End file.
